Twice in the past two years studies have reported that the Capital Region is one of the least religious places in the country. Maybe we should blame the political climate here — hey, that's our usual target, right? — for making us too cynical to believe in anything.

Yet the ordination of a new Roman Catholic bishop this week seemed to capture our imagination. It went beyond religious affiliation, clearly: Less than one-quarter of the residents of 14-county Albany Diocese are Catholic. So why should the other three-quarters of us care?

And, even more to the point for the one-fourth of people who identify as agnostic, atheist, or having no religion, according to national polls, what difference does one more religious guy make, so as to warrant all the hoopla surrounding this elaborate and antiquated rite?

You could say that it's partly because the life story of Edward Scharfenberger, who has become the 10th bishop of Albany, presents a great narrative: The Queens-born grandson of a Russian Jew who fled deadly pogroms in Kiev, he grew up devout, dreamed of being a pilot, studied law, learned five languages, and has been by all accounts a caring presence in a tough urban neighborhood. Now, in Albany, he has reached an exalted ecclesiastical status.

Or you might figure that the celebration Thursday at Albany's Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception — covered live on local television, and extensively in the pages of this newspaper — was just a reflection of our unwillingness to part with the relics of earlier times. We take comfort in the historical role that the church has played in shaping our individual lives and our community, even if church attendance suggests its relevance is diminished today.

But in fact I think we weren't celebrating Thursday either the church's history or the man in its most prominent local position as much as what he and it broadly represent — the idea, perhaps, that we can touch something that transcends our daily lives. Those people who seem to have found a home in their spirituality, and whom we see as potentially guiding the rest of us in that direction, draw our gaze, and for good reason.

Spirituality transcends denominations, and even goes beyond faith. Everyone has a spiritual side, a sort of inner fire, whether we choose to express it regularly or seldom. And whether or not we often focus on it, we're looking for something beyond ourselves.

We satisfy this drive for spiritual expression in many ways — losing ourselves in music or art, maybe, or gulping deeply of mountain air on an Adirondacks peak, or yielding to love's deepest passion. Sometimes our quest to express an inner fire leads along darker paths, such as to drink or drugs, or even violence.

Over centuries, though, our spiritual longings have tended to be channeled into organized religions. If you question the power of these spiritual urges, just remember how many millions of people have died — and continue to be slaughtered today — primarily because of differences defined by their religious beliefs, from the European Christians whose bloody Crusades sought to seize the Holy Land by force to the radical Islamists who today believe America's values denigrate the teachings of their faith.

Now, though, only about 20 percent of Americans show up in church on Sunday mornings. That, incidentally, is half the number who tell pollsters that they are weekly churchgoers — a reflection of what researchers call "the halo effect," in which people describe who they wish they were (maybe perceiving lying as a lesser offense than faithlessness). Over just the past decade, the Albany Catholic diocese has closed 27 percent of its parishes, and its roster of active priests has fallen by 38 percent.

So how do our spiritual needs meet the reality of religion's decline in contemporary society?

Part of the difficulty facing the world's religions is that they stem from pre-scientific times and often reflect hostility to current thought. If we define religions by the superstitions that helped market them to early adherents, there's no wonder they seem irrelevant. You know, the controversy over the movie "Noah" stems mainly from a misplaced loyalty to the allegorical tale that begat it.

But the practice of prayer, urged by all religions, is a form of mindful meditation, which neuroscience research suggests enhances the efficiency of the brain's white matter. And there is nothing outdated about teaching justice, forgiveness and love of neighbor. Acting upon those teachings is, indeed, godly.

Great spiritual leaders focus on such directions as those, rather than on rigid teachings that shut out people seeking spiritual life. Indeed, that seems to be the intent of Bishop Edward Scharfenberger, and it makes his role in this community vital for all of us.